Worth Fighting For
by The Mocking J
Summary: Professor Layton oneshots for Whumptober 2019.
1. Shaky Hands (Bruno & Flora)

**Warnings:** The general effects of old age  
**Spoilers:** For Curious Village and maybe Layton's Mystery Journey  
**Set:** During the LMJ years  
**Song:** Dead Hearts by Stars

* * *

**Shaky Hands (Bruno & Flora)**

"It's always... the butler," Bruno grunted, heaving Matthew onto a stool in the tower's basement.

Matthew didn't dispute this accusation- not that he would have if he was awake- but flopped lifelessly onto the work table.

Bruno stood up, cracking the joints in his back. Maybe he should've taken up Ramon's offer to move Matthew to the tower...

_Hrmph._ That layabout would've gotten lost on his way here. Then Bruno would've had two missing servants on his hands, and Lady Dahlia breathing down his neck...

She'd demanded that Matthew be mended in time for Flora's visit.

Flora, now thirty years of age, understood that the robots were getting older (Matthew being the oldest) so that meant more repairs.

Bruno hadn't bothered trying to explain this Dahlia.

"Oh, you're just not working fast enough!" Bruno mimicked her in a snooty voice. "Perhaps it's time we employed a new caretaker... _Phah!"_ He glanced down at Matthew. "How do you put up with Her Royal Bossiness?"

Matthew's head remained bowed over the table.

"...Probably like that," Bruno grumbled as he went to grab Matthew's key from the gallery wall.

It was by far the rustiest key and the brittlest. Of course, Bruno ended up dropping it.

He cursed and crouched down...a_ long_ way down... to pick it up. He brought the key up to his eyes, trying to keep it still. He squinted.

Didn't look damaged...

He shrugged and shuffled back to Matthew, opening the hatch on his back.

Just as he pulled up a stool of his own, Bruno realised he'd forgotten his toolbox. He groaned and turned. The toolbox was on the other side of the basement, taunting him.

He got up and dragged it over to the work table.

Armed with his torch and trusty screwdriver, Bruno started to inspect Matthew's inner workings...

_"Bruno?"_ The shout echoed down the basement stairs.

_"GRMPH!"_ Bruno almost fell off his stool. His tools went flying. It was a miracle Matthew didn't stir with all the racket.

Bruno stooped down to retrieve his tools. Hearing heels on the stairs, he barked over his shoulder, "Didn't I programme you to _wait?"_

"Didn't I tell you to _fix the lights_ in here?" his visitor retorted.

He did a double take when he saw it was _Flora_ tapping her foot at the bottom of the stairs. His frown vanished under his beard.

"Oh... Sorry. You sounded like Dalia for a moment there..."

Flora pulled a face. (Dear lord, she even _looked_ like Dahlia sometimes...) "Gee, _thanks,"_ Flora drawled. "Hope I didn't scare you too much..."

She helped him tidy up the tools. "How's Matthew doing?" she wondered, knocking her old butler on the head. She winced at the hollow noise he made. "Ouch- sounds like he's lost a lot of cogs..."

"Ah, great..." Bruno rubbed his temples. "Now I'll have to search for them all..." He glanced at Flora sharply, eyebrows raised. "Speaking of which-"

"No," she answered flatly. "There's no news."

"Right..."

They worked in silence for a while; Flora held the torch while Bruno prodded at the few cogs Matthew had left.

Bruno was the one to break the silence. "How're the, er, nippers doing?"

Much to his relief, Flora chuckled. "They're not nippers anymore. Al's twenty-one, surviving uni by the skin of his teeth. Kat's thirteen..."

Bruno grimaced. He'd never understood Professor Layton's decision to adopt two more kids. Wasn't Flora enough?

Flora went on, "...She's already set on becoming a detective..."

"Wha...?" Bruno said. He'd zoned out there for a second.

"Kat wants to be a detective, just like her dad," Flora repeated tensely.

Bruno blinked. Oh- this was the part where Bruno was meant to console her. He clicked his tongue. "Teenagers, eh?" Flora nodded, biting her lip.

Bruno took her hand with a sigh.

She felt him shaking, but it stopped for a moment when she squeezed his hand.

"Come on then," she sighed, pulling Bruno to his feet. "Let's find those missing cogs and finish fixing Matthew."

"Before Dahlia blows a fuse," Bruno added.

Flora laughed. Maybe Bruno's eyes were going, but he could have sworn the basement got a little bit brighter.


	2. Explosion (Claire, Dimitri & Bill)

**Warnings:** Explosion, as the title implies, and major character death  
**Spoilers:** For Lost Future  
**Set:** An AU of a flashback scene from Lost Future  
**Song:** Broken by Lifehouse

* * *

**Explosion (Claire, Dimitri & Bill)**

Of all the days for Claire to be late…

In her defence, she had presented Hershel with his new top hat- and then he had _proposed!_

Claire was ecstatic and completely caught off guard. The two of them had discussed their plans for the future, but she had thought Hershel would want to settle in to his new teaching career before he popped the question. It was unusual for her stoic gentleman to be so spontaneous!

He had gotten down on one knee while they were at the table, right in the middle of their little flat, and revealed a black velvet box to her.

The diamond sparkled on her finger as she dashed down the street. Bill could moan all he liked about 'improper dress code'- no way was she taking it off.

What would Dimitri say-?

An explosion nearly knocked her off her feet. Claire gasped and steadied herself, gripping her bag against her shoulder.

_Had that come from…?_

Her gaze shot up. A thick cloud of black smoke was rising from the institute. Third floor, third window from the right.

Claire hadn't been anywhere near enough to feel the full force of the blast, but all sound was suddenly sucked away, replaced by a ringing in her ears.

The happiest day of her life had just become the worst.

Something had gone catastrophically wrong with the time machine.

Had Bill attempted to run the experiment by himself? He'd claimed their patrons were demanding results- that they were days away from shutting the whole project down… But Bill would never jeopardise his own life-

_Would_ he?

It was the stench of burning that brought Claire back to the present. Then the surrounding noise came swimming back; collapsing rubble, people screaming, sirens in the distance…

No time to wait for the emergency services.

She dropped her bag, ran past the neighbouring flats, dodged the debris from a caved-in roof. A family cried out from beneath…

Right now, Bill was her concern.

She sprinted into the institute and up three flights of stairs, light-speed fast. (Just last week, she'd made a bet with Bill that she would invent light-speed travel-)

"Bill!" she called, heaving the lab's disconnected door aside. The room was engulfed in even more smoke.

Claire covered her mouth, but it was more for the horror of what she could see. Flaming equipment, shattered dials, sparking wires…

And at the centre of it all, their time machine lay in ruins.

Claire picked through the remains. They had poured their hearts and souls into this- sacrificed so many hours of their time…

What was it all for?

She gasped when she spotted a hand poking out from behind a broken panel.

_Bill…_

Wait… She realised as she edged closer that the arm was too thin, and the shirt sleeve- it was orange…

Claire couldn't breathe. She fell to her knees and crawled the rest of the way across the floor, numb to the shards of metal and glass that stung her palms.

Of course she recognised the body, but she tried to delude herself.

_He'd insisted the machine wasn't ready… He'd had an argument with Bill the day before… He'd never take off his lab coat…_

_Where was his lab coat?_

Claire looked around the room as if another version of her friend would pop into existence, as if he wasn't lying dead before her.

That was when she finally noticed Bill slumped against a storage cupboard. She felt a stab of relief and regret. Between both of her colleagues, why had Bill been the lucky one?

"Bill…" she croaked._ "Bill!"_

He groaned and his eyes slid open. (There wasn't so much as a dent in his glasses.)

"H-hold on, Bill! Help's coming…" Not for all of them.

Bill managed to sit up slightly. He squinted at her. "Where the bloody hell… _were_ you?" he grunted.

_She was too late._

"What happened?" Claire demanded thickly. "The machine-"

"Ugh… Calculations were off. He was too concerned about _you."_

_"Why?" _Claire already knew the answer. She had wondered for a while about his feelings, but she had dismissed it as a crush.

She had never dreamed he would risk his life in her place.

"Crazy lovesick fool," Bill muttered.

The test subject's face was half-covered by curly brown hair. Claire brushed the curls away. The ring still glittered on her finger like a sign of guilt.

She choked out, "I'm sorry, Dimitri."


	3. Delirium (Nina)

**Warnings:** Delirium, kidnapping  
**Spoilers:** For Eternal Diva  
**Set:** Just before the events of Eternal Diva  
**Song:** With You by Avril Lavigne

* * *

**Delirium (Nina)**

You wake up at the seaside.

Foamy turquoise waves lap at the white sand beneath you.

You sit up, blinking at your surroundings. You're on an empty beach, bordered by a forest and some grey stone cliffs. The sea seems... misty. There aren't any boats or swimmers out there as far as you can tell.

You're alone.

You can't remember how you got here- wherever here is.

Frowning, you dig your fingers into the sand, soft and fluffy as a pillow. It would be easier to go back to sleep and not have to worry...

"There you are, darling!" The deep voice makes you jump. You stumble to your feet and turn to see a man strolling towards you.

He's wearing a pink-purple suit with a shirt and tie. He has bushy grey hair, a big beaky nose and his eyes are hidden behind his glasses.

Do you know him? You take a small step away from him, but he calls to you again. "Come along now. We really should be getting back."

Back _where...?_ You glance around the beach again. No one else is about, so you must have arrived with him. _Right..?_

The man has now reached your side. Smiling, he holds his hand out for you. His fingers are long and thin.

It's not like he's trying to_ drag_ you away...

Hesitantly, you slip your hand into his and you start to walk with him.

"Um, where are we going?" you ask.

He laughs. "Home, of course."

"Home...?" Do you live near the beach? You look around, hoping to see houses, a road or neighbours you might recognise.

How long have you been walking?

The man notices you are lagging.

"Are you getting tired? Do you want me to give you piggyback?"

You shake your head. "N-no... I'm not tired..."

He squeezes your hand. "Now, now- I really think you should rest-"

"No!" you cry. "I want to go _home!"_

He peers down at you like a hawk honing in on its prey. His grip tightens painfully.

You picture him- this stranger- pulling you into a car off the street. You scream and struggle and scream but no one can hear you.

Mum and Dad won't know where you are. What if you never see them again?

The strange man holds a sweet-smelling cloth over your nose and mouth-

"NO!" You bite his hand- hard enough to make him yelp and let you go.

You run. The man shouts behind you, but you don't dare look back.

There's no end to the beach ahead of you- just miles and miles of sand.

Your gaze flits to the trees on your side. You can escape through the forest!

Sand sucks at your feet as you turn. You gasp and try to wriggle free, but you sink even further down to your knees.

You can hear the man getting closer. "That's enough games now... It's time to calm_ down."_

For a moment, you do as he says, letting yourself relax. You stop sinking.

"There's a good girl-"

You haul yourself out of the sand and hurtle into the forest.

_"Help!" _you shriek when you see someone standing in the shade of a tree. They look like a pirate with that pointy black hat and cape.

"Please... please help me," you gasp as you reach their side.

The pirate ignores you; they keep digging for treasure or whatever it is they're doing...

_"I can help you!"_ You turn to see a blonde-haired lady, beckoning you deeper into the forest. She's pale and gaunt but her face is kind._ "This way!"_

Can you trust her? You don't know her- _Do you?-_ but there's something familiar about her.

You glance from the lady to the beach.

The strange man is at the threshold of the forest. "Oh, are you playing with a friend?" His glasses shine through the gloomy trees. "Tell her you have to go now."

You go with the lady. She lets you pass her safely before staggering after you.

While the beach stretched on forever, the forest thins too quickly. The two of you emerge onto a grassy cliff-top.

Out here, there's nowhere to hide.

"W-what now?" you whimper.

The woman has stopped to catch her breath. "He's never... going to give up," she pants. "I have to do something." She swallows and points to the purple pendant on her skinny neck. "Can you... look after this for me?"

You nod uncertainly. She takes off the pendant and places it in your hand.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Stay here. I'll find a way to stop him."

She smiles softly at you before she ventures back into the forest.

"Wait," you call. "What's your name...?"

But she's already gone. You're left alone on the cliff, clutching the pendant, with the same question echoing through your head.

_What's your name?_


	4. Human Shield (Clive & Layton)

**Warnings:** Possible concussion  
**Spoilers:** For Lost Future  
**Set:** During Lost Future  
**Song:** Be Somebody by Thousand Foot Krutch

* * *

**Human Shield (Clive & Layton)**

"Professor, run away while you can!" Clive shouts. He plays the part of Future Luke Triton to a tea, selflessly trying to shield his mentor from an opponent twice his size. He's in over his head, but he acts brave and optimistic anyhow.

This will quell any doubts in the professor's mind that he really is Future Luke.

Then Bostro batters him- a bit harder than Clive had expected. Clive careens across the casino and hits his head against the marble floor.

He lies sprawled on his back. The yellow lights spin above him. His skull feels like it's been cracked in two. Brilliant- he probably has a concussion.

"Oh no!" (Why does Little Luke sound like he's underwater?)

_Stomp, stomp, stomp._

A blurry white mass- Bostro- lumbers towards Clive. Clive swallows.

It's all for show, isn't it? Dimitri's ordered the Family not to kill Clive... _Right?_

They definitely know not to harm Hershel Layton.

When the professor rushes to Clive's aide, Bostro actually halts his advance.

The professor isn't armed. He doesn't have a gang of thugs at his disposal. He could never carry the same menacing air as Future Layton. But his determination may just outweigh Dimitri's.

Nothing will stand between Professor Layton and a person in need.

The professor crouches and helps Clive sit up, cradling his head. Clive groans but manages to get to his feet.

"Quickly, you two!" the professor calls. "This way!"


	5. Gunpoint (Desmond & the Bostonius crew)

**Warnings:** Being held at gunpoint.  
**Spoilers:** For Azran Legacy  
**Set:** During Azran Legacy  
**Song:** I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young

* * *

**Gunpoint (Desmond & the Bostonius crew)**

It ends as it began- in Froenborg's ice cave.

I'm inspecting the gateway to the Azran's greatest legacy when Layton and Co arrive.

An unwanted sense of déjà vu washes over me.

That day we joined forces, we exchanged smiles and handshakes.

Now, I reciprocate Layton's shout with a sneer.

"The final Azran puzzle is mine to solve, and mine_ alone."_

I don't need their help. I don't need _him…_

My resolve wavers slightly (not that I let it show) when Aurora begs me to reconsider.

There's so much more feeling in her voice than when we first found her. It's simply an assimilation of human speech- an Azran trick… Or so I try to convince myself.

Why, then, do I want to _listen_ to her?

Why did I teach her how to read, attempt to explain my jokes to her, and shield her from any strangers we encountered-?

"Stay where you are, all of you!"

And… Cue Bronev, swaggering in with a pack of armed agents. (I can almost hear Targent's evil theme music playing in the background.)

Bronev announces that 'he' (no 'they' this time) will take it from here. He orders us to hand over the key, just as he ordered us to hand over Aurora. His agents cock their guns, in case we didn't get the message.

Emmy clenches her fists. I picture my partner, gripping her sword.

Luke and Aurora edge closer to Layton. I feel my daughter, nestled against my side.

The key is hidden under my cape. Bronev doesn't know that, though. Any one of us could be have it. It could be under Layton's hat, up Emmy's sleeve, or inside Luke's satchel…

Once again, the choice comes down to me. Either I comply with Targent's demands…or I lose everything I hold dear.

I imagine Targent tearing us apart, one by one, until they find the key. In that time and through that chaos, I could escape from the cave. I could avoid the gunfire, as I've done before. Raymond isn't here to save me if I get caught, but he's waiting right outside.

I could do it, and leave my companions to die.

"Pfah!" I spit. I hurl the key at Bronev's head. He catches it and laughs.

Emmy and Luke glare at me- _ungrateful brats-_ but Layton nods in thanks.

All I can do is shrug.


	6. Dragged Away (Luke, Layton & Marina)

**Warnings:** Hostage situations  
**Spoilers:** For the Layton's Mystery Journey anime and Lost Future  
**Set:** During the LMJ anime  
**Song:** Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons

* * *

**Dragged Away (Luke, Layton & Marina)**

"So, what? You're going to kill us?" Luke knows it's a cliché line. He sounds like a captured hero from one of Flora's mystery novels...

Ha, he _wishes_ he could be that heroic.

His face is squashed against the cathedral floor. He's baring his teeth, trying to look brave for Marina, but he's actually sweating buckets.

Despite their dire position, the professor seems as calm and as dignified as ever. "No, that probably isn't the case," he mutters.

Luke glances at him. Is he trying to be reassuring or is he on to something...?

"Fortunately, we have two spare coffins for you to stay in," the priest informs them.

No thanks- Luke would rather take their chances at the local two-star hotel.

"I thought so," the professor replies. "That means that your employer... Earl Dellendar is already dead, correct?"

"Colour me surprised!" the priest exclaims. "You worked it out! So, does that mean you know what the Hidden Relics are?"

The professor smiles slightly. "For the most part."

Luke turns his head to him. "Really, Professor?" _Really? How long have you been sitting on that one?_

"Yes. The Relics were something mankind was never meant to touch."

"The Hidden Relics..." Luke echoes. "What are they?"

He and the professor have already discovered they were created by the Azran. (Of course.) The better question- what are they for?

Not another bloody doomsday device! Maybe it's just some magical healing coffin...

The professor's solemn reply shatters Luke's hopes.

"A door to the future that was never meant to be opened."

_Time travel?_ Did the Azran master that too? Or are they going to end up like... like Claire?

Before the professor can elaborate, the priest orders, "Take them to the chamber, and take Mrs Triton to the crypt."

_C-crypt...?_

Luke meets Marina's horrified gaze.

"What use is she to you?" Luke demands as he's hauled to his feet. "She doesn't know anything about the Relics." He snorts, so convincing that the professor frowns at him. "She can't even solve puzzles!"

Marina gets the message. "Luke..." she whimpers, fake-hurt rising in her voice. (Was she just _pretending_ to cry with Luke whenever they watched _Finding Nemo?_)

"Well..." The priest tsks. "She'll have plenty of time to practice while she's imprisoned. Perhaps one day she'll even join our congregation!"

He flicks his hand and the cult members drag Marina away.

Marina yelps to Luke over her shoulder, _"Just keep swimming!"_

Her captors exchange a confused glance.

Stuck between a laugh and a sob, Luke responds, " _Just keep swimming!_ Someone will save us!"

Emmy, Flora, Desmond... Too many friends to count.

The professor had pinned his hopes on Kat, going as far as to leave her a hidden message outside the cathedral, but Kat is ten. How long does the professor think they'll be waiting?

The whole reason why Luke started investigating the Relics in the first place was so that Kat and the professor wouldn't need to get involved. Now, he, the professor and even Marina are done for.

Kat may never see her dad again.

The priest grabs a candle stick from the alter. This must be some kind of leaver; at the end of the aisle, a hatch slides open in the floor. Beneath, there's a secret staircase that descends into the darkness.

The priest goes first with the candle. Luke and the professor are shoved after him, through an endless tunnel, until they come to a dimly-lit room.

Before them is a stone chamber. It looks as if a giant has picked up a small house and inserted it into this room.

Judging by its size, shape and the grey blue-tinged stone...

"The Relics," Luke gasps, "from the Lestagiana Cave!"

Chuckling, the priest pushes open the chamber's doors.

Inside, the walls and the floor pulse with blue veins. Purple crystals light each corner. In the centre of the chamber is a pedestal like the one Luke and the professor saw in the cave. And facing the pedestal...

Are those the... coffins the priest spoke of?

The priest presses two buttons on the pedestal, releasing the coffins onto the floor. Luke clenches his teeth at the noise they make.

Turning a dial, the priest drains the coffins of their glowing liquid contents. The coffin lids open with a cold hiss.

"Youngest first," the priest says, smirking at Luke.

Luke gulps.

He isn't stepping forward to die, but he is entering the unknown. Somehow, that feels even more frightening.

How far into the 'future' will they go? Ten years? A century? Millennium?

Everyone they love could die without ever learning what happened to them.

Mum and Dad...

Emmy and Flora...

Alfendi and Kat...

How long will they be waiting?

Luke can't hold back his tears. He might as well be a terrified ten-year-old again.

"Remember, Luke..." the professor murmurs. Luke turns to him. "We must keep a clear mind."

Luke musters up a smile. "Right-"

The cult members shove him into the coffin, forcing him to lie straight like an Egyptian mummy. Luke shuts his eyes tight.

At least the professor will still be by his side-

The door closes.


	7. Isolation (Marina)

**Warnings:** Hostage situation, isolation, starvation, disorientation, blood, drugging. Also, this oneshot contains a transgender character who discusses implied struggles in the past, though I myself am not trans.  
**Spoilers:** For the Layton's Mystery Journey anime  
**Set:** During the LMJ anime. A continuation from the previous chapter.  
**Song:** Sea of Lovers by Christina Perri

* * *

**Isolation (Marina)**

Marina stumbled into the tiny room. The door slammed shut behind her.

Her arms were still tied up, but they had left her legs free...

She spun around, assessing her new prison. It was smaller than the storage room Luke had been locked in at the British museum, but slightly brighter with a single old bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Above, the cathedral bricks had been white and spotless, but down here in the crypt, they were black and grimy with age.

The whole place reeked of stale alcohol from the packed wine racks. Wooden wine racks that didn't look very stable...

Marina pushed her body against one of the racks. The wood groaned and bottles clinked together in protest. She tried again, throwing all of her weight into it. The rack wobbled perilously. A bottle came loose and fell to the floor. It smashed open, unleashing wine and shards of glass.

Marina grinned. Still, she waited a few moments to see if the cult members had heard her. It appeared that they had not.

She knelt down to pick up the biggest, sharpest piece of glass- which was no easy task while her hands were bound behind her. The glass scratched her fingers, but she kept hold of it, knowing her life- and Luke's- depended on it.

The next time that door opened, she would be ready.

* * *

After what felt like hours, she managed to cut through her ropes- though her hands suffered as a result, her blood mixing with the wine on the floor. She wasn't squeamish (performing a million dissections would knock that right out of you) but it made her dizzy. This wasn't helped at all by her grumbling stomach and her burning thirst...

Why couldn't she have grabbed something to eat before she got abducted?

After what felt like days, the door finally opened.

She had planned on jumping out at her captors from behind the door, wielding her piece of glass like a dagger...

But she was too weak from dehydration and hunger. She had to hold onto the wall to keep herself up. Two cult members were in the room before she could even raise her glass.

_Raise her glass, hehe..._

One cult member went to clean up the broken wine bottle and the... other messes she had made. (She couldn't see his face under that purple hood, but he was definitely scowling.)

His companion- assuming they were all male, Marina wasn't in the right frame of mind to ask- stared at her. Then he pointed at her useless 'weapon'.

"Hand it over..." He sounded young- maybe a similar age to her and Luke.

_Luke,_ Marina remembered through all of her disorientation. If she was_ starving_, she could only imagine how Luke was suffering.

Hands shaking, she lifted the shard of glass higher. "L-let me go," she croaked, "or I _swear..."_

The younger cult member pulled something out of his long sleeve. It looked like a small bottle of-

_"Water!"_ Marina gasped.

"And _food,"_ he added, revealing a short loaf of bread as well. "Want some?"

Her mouth would have been watering if it wasn't so dry. She ran her tongue over her quivering lips.

How was she supposed to escape when she could barely walk?

_I'm sorry, Luke._

She dropped the glass in defeat.

The young cult member took the shard away and rewarded her with the bread and water.

Marina didn't question why they were bothering to give her food and water- _Water!-_ she just scooped up the bottle and drained every drop like a thirsty animal.

Then she inhaled the bread. Wait- she really should make it last. Who knew when her next meal would be? She tried to savour every mouthful. It was the best thing she had ever eaten- though it was grainy, hard and it had a weird taste...

Her head felt even heavier than before. She leant against the wall and slid down to the floor.

The one cult member kept watching her.

* * *

She woke up alone (not that that was unusual) and discovered that her left wrist was chained to the wall. Someone had bandaged her hands after her struggles to escape. How _considerate_ of them...

Lifting her gaze, she saw that all the wine bottles had been removed. The smell had improved a little- something Marina was actually grateful for, since she felt nauseous.

The cult members had moved the room around- moved_ her_\- while she was unconscious.

No... while she was_ drugged._ It must have been something in the bread or the water.

She was so desperate that she'd eaten it right out of the cult members' hands.

Now, she'd lost her weapon and the element of surprise. They knew she would try to escape, but she could easily be controlled.

Control her... why? Did the priest really want her to 'join' them, or was that just something he'd said to rile Luke up?

_Luke..._ How long had he and the professor been in the 'chamber'- wherever that was?

_"Someone will save us!"_ Those were Luke's last words to her.

Emmy Altava have must been the saviour Luke had in mind. Her roundhouse kick was legendary- capable of toppling enemies, rocks and solid walls.

But according to Luke, Emmy had left the professor years ago to become a travelling camera woman.

Did Emmy have any idea where the professor and Luke had gone? Could Rosa tell her, or Flora...?

These days, Flora didn't have much to do with the professor unless it involved Kat. (She would have to take care of Kat even more now in the professor's absence.)

Flora kept in touch with Luke- he had proudly read her letters to Marina- but who knew how much he had told Flora about the Relics. Probably even less than he had told Marina...

Rosa was bound to go to the police when the professor and Luke didn't return home. But would the police be able to track them down?

Marina had only managed to follow Luke to Southampton thanks to one of his maps... which the cult had confiscated, along with the rest of Marina's stuff.

She couldn't figure out_ how_ they had found her. At Luke's request, she hadn't talked to anyone... and ironically, no one she trusted knew where she had run off to.

Most of Luke's friends didn't even know who she was.

She never did give her parents her new address...

A rock dropped in Marina's stomach as she grasped how dire her situation truly was. This really could be it- she could just disappear and no one would ever realise what had happened to her.

Sure, everyone would notice if Professor Layton- the most famous detective in London- went missing. Maybe even his old apprentice would get a mention.

But _her…?_

The door opened. Marina gasped, praying a middle-aged lady would kick her way into the room. But it was just a cult member.

"Ah, I thought you'd still be asleep..." The _same_ cult member- the young one.

He placed another bottle of water at her feet. This was followed by a bowl of chunky porridge and a spoon. It smelled so good, but Marina turned her nose up at it.

The man snorted. "You're not in any position to be picky."

"You _drugged_ me last time," she grumbled.

He shrugged. "Wasn't my idea..." He prodded the bowl closer to her. "This is _exactly_ the same thing that I had for breakfast."

"Prove it."

"Fine." Without hesitation, he took a bite of the porridge. (_Her_ porridge!)

She held back for a moment, trying to get a glimpse of his eyes under his hood. They looked clear and green as grass.

Gosh, she missed being outdoors...

She sighed and he passed her the porridge. Eating while she was chained up was no easy task. The cult member continued watching her in amusement.

"What?" she snapped.

"You're American," he noted.

Shouldn't the cult already know that if they had been stalking Luke?

_"And?"_ she said, putting her entire accent into it.

"...How are things over there?" he wondered.

Marina couldn't believe they were having this conversation, but it was the only normal conversation she'd had in about a week.

She shrugged hard. "Don't know. I haven't been home in like six months."

And now she never would go home again.

A tear slipped into her porridge. She turned away from the cult member. He walked out and locked the door.

She wondered if he heard her crying, or if he even cared.

* * *

From then on, he visited her every day- once in the morning and once in the evening.

This was how she kept hold of time... and hope.

If anything, she was grateful to that one cult member, who she started calling the warden. She would much rather face him everyday then the brutes who had caught her, or that horrible excuse for a priest...

"Why a cathedral?" she asked the warden one morning. Porridge was on the menu, as usual.

"My family were devout Catholics," he replied through his own porridge. (Some days, he ate with her.)

"No, I mean- why hide the Relics here, of all places?" Why not in a top secret facility or on a private island?

"Oh..." He almost sounded disappointed that she wasn't inquiring about _him s_pecifically. "It was Earl Dellendar's idea. He was on he brink of death and wanted to 'devote himself to God', so he built this place to store the Relics-"

"And to keep himself alive," Marina finished, amazed. That must be the purpose of the Relics- to extend the life of whoever possessed them. What did that mean for Luke and the professor?

The warden snorted. "Didn't work, though."

"Yeah... Professor Layton said Dellendar died."

She didn't ask_ why,_ but the warden filled her in anyway.

"There was a... maintenance error with the coffins," he revealed in a low voice.

"I-is it fixed now?" she gasped. She hoped the same thing wouldn't happen to Luke and the professor!

"Apparently..." The warden shrugged. "There'll be trouble if the problem arises again. The priest is meant to be keeping a close eye on things."

Was that meant to_ reassure_ her? Marina's eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Priest's orders," he said quickly.

Marina folded her arms. "If this is his plan to recruit me for the cult, tell him it's not working."

The warden let out a short laugh. "Will do... Want me take that?"

She'd polished off her entire bowl of porridge while they were talking. She gave him the empty bowl. As he got up to leave, she smiled a little.

* * *

No one entered her prison that evening.

She had gotten used to living off two square meals a day. She'd even come to expect it.

But without dinner, her stomach rumbled and her headaches returned.

Mercifully, her door opened the next morning.

Still half-asleep, she demanded, "What time do you call...?" She trailed off, however, as an older man with flowing white robes glided in.

Marina bolted up and shrank back against the wall. Why was he here? Where was her warden?

The priest smirked at her confusion and her fear.

"Good- you've gained some respect," he purred. "That will serve you well in your next life."

_Next_ life? What did he mean? Was this it? Had he decided to kill her after all?

It had been months and no on had come to rescue her. Luke had been wrong. The cult didn't need a hostage anymore.

Marina braved a glance beyond the door. There were cult members accompanying the priest. Amongst them, Marina thought she recognised the warden.

So that... that was why he had shared the cult's secrets with her. He knew she was going to die.

Marina wished she was strong enough to fight, clever enough to negotiate, or bold enough to go out in a blaze of glory.

But she wasn't enough.

"Don't look so _glum,_" the priest sneered as tears streamed down her face. "You should be grateful! This is a tremendous opportunity. You'll be the first woman welcomed into the cathedral."

"H-huh?" Shocked, Marina looked from the priest to the warden, who was shuffling his feet.

After everything, did they honestly expect her to join their deranged cult?

"Your initiation will begin tomorrow," the priest decreed. "Unfortunately, you won't be able to leave your quarters quite yet, but if you continue to behave... then we will see."

In other words, they would only release her when she was a brainwashed pawn.

Marina wanted to spit in the priest's face. Instead, she forced herself to nod.

The priest seemed satisfied.

He snapped his fingers and a cult member brought in a small purple robe. The priest presented the robe to Marina.

She accepted it with a "Thank you". (At least it would keep her warm.)

The priest smiled and left her prison, locking the door once more.

Marina had never been so glad to be alone.

* * *

"Hey-"

Marina threw her sneaker at the warden. She would probably never get it back, but it was a worthy sacrifice to see him retreat behind the door.

"It's just me," he hissed, poking his head back into the room. His hood had fallen down. For the first time, Marina could fully see his face: Green eyes, pointed chin and plaited blonde hair. She didn't care how young he looked.

_"You,"_ she seethed. "Because of _you_ I'm going to become a zombiefied cult member!"

"Not all of us are zombies," he muttered. He did a quick check outside before he crept back in and shut the door.

She glared at him. "Then why don't you do something? Why don't you release me?"

"I can't do that-"

"Then you can just _leave!"_ Stockholm syndrome- that was all it had been. She didn't need his company.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," he argued. "I'm just as trapped as you are!"

"Oh,_ please..."_ Marina raised her chained-up wrist. "There are plenty of cathedrals- plenty of cults- that don't _kidnap_ people!"

"There's nowhere on _Earth_ where I would feel safe." He gripped his plait, closing his eyes. Tears glittered in his lashes, but they were gone when he gazed at Marina again. "My only hope lies in the future."

"You want... to use the Relics," Marina realised, "for yourself."

He nodded and huffed, "But I can't do that while your husband and father-in-law are hogging the coffins!"

Marina didn't bother correcting him. "So... If I join the cult and figure out how the Relics work, you'll help me free them?"

"It won't be easy," he warned. "If you mess up the coffins, I... um, _they_ could die, like Dellendar."

"We'll study the coffins," Marina suggested. "We'll watch how the priest maintains them."

"I've been here four years and I've never been allowed down that staircase."

Marina frowned. "Just how old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

He was even younger than her! While she and Luke had been at university, this man... this _kid,_ had fallen in with the cult.

She couldn't begin to imagine what he had experienced- missing his family, learning the cult's ways, being cut off from the outside world...

Marina would have to embrace that kind of life if she wanted to survive.

She could try to escape when she had earned their trust. But what if she hadn't learned enough about the Relics to save Luke and the professor?

What if the priest pulled the plug on their coffins?

Marina sighed, feeling the weight of the mission on her shoulders.

She looked at her warden- now her ally- and promised, "I'll stay. But if you_ ever t_urn on me, I'll rat you out to the priest."

He smiled. "That seems fair."

They shook hands on it.

He winced at her chains. "Hopefully we'll get those off you soon..." He approached the door and tossed her sneaker back to her.

"Thank you," she said before he opened the door. There was something else... "Um, what's your name?"

"Joseph to the rest of the cult. But when we're alone, you can call me _Josie."_

He- or _she_\- smiled, and Marina finally understood.

The two of them may have been trapped, but they were in this together. They would remain with the cult until they fully understood how the Relics worked.

Marina put on on her purple robe.

Even if it took a hundred years, she wouldn't leave without Luke.


	8. Stab Wound (Anton, Katia & Layton)

**Warnings:** Stabbing, blood, Anton's... possessiveness of Sophia  
**Spoilers:** For PL2  
**Set:** An AU of the sword fight scene from PL2.  
**Song:** Viva la Vida by Coldplay

* * *

**Stab Wound (Anton, Katia & Layton)**

"You're going to be very sorry you crossed me!"

The sight of Sophia- _his_ Sophia- clinging to Layton's arm sickened him.

How _could_ she? How could she embrace another man when she and Anton were betrothed? After everything they had been through together…

Anton charged at them, sword poised as if to strike, but Sophia only drew closer to Layton, hugging his back.

Layton adopted the defensive stance of a swordsman. Anton might have been impressed, were it not for the fact that Layton stood between he and Sophia.

For that, Anton would quite happily sever Layton's arm from his shoulder. But wouldn't it be dishonourable to fight an unarmed opponent?

Both Sophia and Layton gasped as his blade glided towards Layton's shoulder. Anton's aim had simply been to separate the two of them.

He expected Sophia to flee from his attack. She had never seemed thrilled watching Anton's fencing lessons, but Father had insisted Anton needed to train. Didn't Anton want to protect his home and his family?

(But how could he when Sophia had left home-?)

Anton's aim was off. Sophia didn't move in time.

She released a cry that pierced Anton's soul.

Sophia stumbled back, shielding the side of her cheek. Anton saw a slash of red between her fingers.

His sword fell to the carpet. "Sophia!"

He ran to her, but she scrambled further back, almost tripping up the stairs in her bid to escape him.

He stopped. Her eyes were filled with the pain and fear that he had inflicted. There were no tears, but her eyes appeared… misty? (Weren't her irises darker than that?)

Doubtfully, Anton reached out for her. Insufficient apologies spilled from his mouth. "I'm so sorry, my dear! I don't know what came over me-"

"Get away from her!" Layton's young ward growled. The boy put himself in front of Sophia, protecting her from Anton.

Layton rushed to Sophia's side on the stairs. "Are you alright?" He tried to inspect her wound, but Sophia winced and shook her head. (Why was her hair so short…?)

She pressed her palm against her cheek even more. Blood slipped through her fingertips.

Anton's arm drooped. He studied his hand- his sword-hand. It became a shaking fist.

He stammered, "S-Sophia-!"

"I'M NOT_ SOPHIA!"_ she shouted.


	9. Shackled (Carmine & Chelmey)

**Warnings:** Interrogation, referenced car crash, accusations of alcohol and drug use.  
**Spoilers:** For Curious Village and maybe Professor Layton vs Ace Attorney  
**Set:** During PLvsAA. No one knows exactly where PLvsAA falls in the PL timeline. Layton knows Chelmey but Luke is still with him, so presumably it takes place after PL2 but before PL3. But then, Flora doesn't get so much as a passing mention... Hopefully, this helps!  
**Song:** Secrets by One Republic

* * *

**Shackled (Carmine & Chelmey)**

_'Professor,_

_I pray you received my first letter safely. Please look after it._

_There is so much I would like to tell you but at present I really do not have the time._

_Hours after the car crash, I awoke not in the park, but at Scotland Yard._

_They have caught me~'_

Carmine had been scrawling the message on the bandage torn from his arm. His pen froze as the door opened behind him.

He slipped the bandage up his sleeve- no easy feat while he was handcuffed to an interrogation table- and let the pen fall onto the floor. As the pen landed, he covered its noise with a coughing fit.

That wouldn't seem_ too_ suspicious. He had just survived a car accident, after all. It was a miracle he still had a spleen at this point.

"Sounds like you could use a drink," someone grunted.

"Y-yes, please," Carmine spluttered.

A tall moustached policeman took the chair on the opposite side of the table. He placed a glass of water just out of Carmine's reach.

"You can have some _after_ you answer my questions," his interrogator growled.

Wasn't that technically a form of torture?

From the way the policeman was scowling at him, you would think Carmine was a suspected serial killer.

As far as Carmine knew, he had been the only victim in the park, since Espella had gotten away (or so he hoped).

Carmine had had brushes with the law in the past, but only for little things- including but not limited to trespassing, property damage, 'questionable' driving...

He must have encountered this man somewhere before.

Carmine squinted at him. "Apologies... but do I _know_ you?"

_"Inspector Cornelius Chelmey,"_ the inspector said into a tape recorder. He pointed the recorder at Carmine. "Pronounce your name_ clearly."_

_"Carmine Accidenti,"_ Carmine supplied in his thickest accent. It wasn't his fault if police force couldn't afford European translators.

"In _Queen's English."_

"Fine, fine…"

Chelmey huffed, "We'd be here all night if I listed your_ previous_ crimes, so we'll stick to the case at hand. Were you driving towards Riverside Park at approximately 7.15 this evening?"

It was more like he had been tearing up the road, but anyway… "Yes."

"Are you the registered keeper of the vehicle?"

"No."

He and Espella had found the car on the outskirts of Labyrinthia. Apparently, cars didn't exist in Labyrinthia, so Carmine saw no reason why they couldn't 'borrow' it to escape. Espella had been dumbstruck when he hot-wired the car and they drove away. Carmine smiled at the memory.

"This isn't funny in the slightest," Chelmey snarled. "Did you_ steal_ the vehicle?"

"Yes," Carmine admitted, "but it was a matter of-"

"Were you under the effects of alcohol?"

"The breathalyzer already answered that, didn't it?" Carmine pointed out. The police had tested his breath fo alcohol as soon as he was conscious.

"There are some things the test can't detect," Chelmey said, "such as_ other_ drugs."

If there was something in the Labyrinthian water, it should have left his system by now.

Carmine shrugged innocently. "Only tobacco... which isn't illegal, the last time I checked-"

"Then why were you doing_ 70_ on a _30 miles per hour_ road?"

Carmine hesitated for a moment before he revealed, "I was being pursued."

"By _who?"_

"Someone who wished me great harm."

"I see... And did this someone _knock your car into a tree?"_

"Yes, they were responsible."

"Then where's the _other_ car?"

"I never said they were driving," Carmine muttered.

"Then_ how,"_ Chelmey demanded, "did they_ hit_ your car into the tree?" (He looked as if he wanted to hit Carmine across the face.)

Carmine rubbed his head. "They... moved the statues onto the road so I would collide with them."

_"Who?"_ Chelmey repeated. _"WHO_ moved the statues?"

A direct question. Carmine couldn't dodge this one if he wanted to remain honest.

Looking Chelmey in the eye, he said, "Witches."

He expected Chelmey to flip the table over. Instead, Chelmey hummed. "How many of them were there?"

Carmine blinked. "Do you believe me?"

"I believe you saw some people in _witches' costumes…"_

Carmine's heart skipped a beat. "Where did you see these people?"

"I'm asking the questions here. How many-"

"Seven, I think!" He didn't remember. He didn't care. Those witches were still out there. What if they caught Espella before she reached Professor Layton?

"There was a passenger with me in the car," Carmine burst out. "A young woman with blonde hair and a red cloak-"

There was a tap at the door. Both Chelmey and Carmine ignored it.

Chelmey grunted, "You could have mentioned her sooner-"

"Have you_ seen her?"_ Carmine stood up, straining against his shackles.

"Sit DOWN!" Chelmey ordered. "You were the only person present at the crash site. I arrived there moments after the crash. We haven't had any reports of a mysterious woman running around."

Somewhat relieved, Carmine sagged into his seat.

Someone knocked the door again and squeaked, "I-Inspector?"

"I'm _busy,_ Barton!" Chelmey barked.

"Sorry, Inspector, but there's a young lady here who's asked to talk to you. She's quite distressed!"

Carmine shifted in his seat to stare at the door.

Noticing Carmine's reaction, Chelmey asked, "Who is she?"

Barton informed, "It's Flora Reinhold, Professor Layton's daughter…"

Since when did the professor have a _daughter?_ And what was she doing here?

Awkwardly, Barton continued, "Oh, and the professor's mother is with her-"

"I'm his _cleaner!"_ a woman's voice snapped.

A voice Carmine recognised immediately. How many times had she called for him to quit running in Gressenheller's corridors, or ordered him to clean up any breakages he had caused?

_"Rosa!"_ he hollered.

For a moment there was silence, both within and outside the interrogation room.

Then, Rosa replied, "Um... hello?"

"Bloody hell…" Chelmey huffed like a horse and he got up to open the door.

A constable- Barton- tripped into the room. He straightened up and and saluted. "Miss Flora and Rosa to see you, Sir."

"No 'Miss' for me?" Rosa grumbled as she and a brown-haired girl followed him in. Rosa's gaze fell on Carmine. "Oh," she said flatly. "Why am I _not_ surprised?"

The girl, Flora, regraded Carmine warily. She reminded him a bit of his old classmate, Janice. Maybe it was the ponytail...

Flora pulled on Rosa's sleeve and she whispered, "Who is this?"

"Carmine Accidenti, the professor's former student," Roa explained. "The bane of my existence a few years back."

"That makes two of us," Chelmey cut in. "I'm in the middle of an interrogation. What do you want?"

Flora stepped towards Chelmey. She whimpered, "Something's happened to the professor and Luke!"

_"What?"_ Carmine and Chelmey exclaimed together.

Chelmey silenced Carmine with a glare. His expression softened slightly when he looked back at Flora. He tried to reassure her. "I spoke to Layton at the riverside not three hours ago-"

Flora insisted, "We went to his office and it looked like... like there'd been a tornado! The window was smashed open and the professor's papers were all over the place!"

That definitely sounded like the witches' handiwork.

"It wouldn't be the first time someone stole the professor's research," Rosa recalled with a frown.

Chelmey stroked his lip. "When did he leave his office?"

"We don't know," Flora said. "We were at the library but when we came to meet them, they were gone!"

Carmine clenched his fists on the table. He had sent Espella off to explore a strange city by herself and she had led the witches straight to Professor Layton!

Chelmey turned to Carmine. "Would you happen to have anything to do with this?

"I'm afraid that I might," Carmine mumbled. He peered up at Flora and Rosa. "But I'm going to help you find them... if the inspector lets me…"

Flora looked at Chelmey. She clasped her hands under her chin. "Please, Inspector? We need all the help we can get!"

"He does take after the professor as a detective," Rosa added, "even if he is rougher around the edges…"

Barton piped up, "There also seems to be some... some sort of link between the car crash and the attack on the professor's office. And Mr Accidenti was present at the crash site-"

_"Alright,"_ Chelmey conceded a growl. He jabbed a finger at Carmine. "If you put _one_ foot out of line, I'll put you behind bars."

Carmine nodded. "Understood."

Chelmey unlocked his handcuffs.

Carmine stood up. "Can you take me to the professor's office?"

This was the start of a story within a story, he could tell.


	10. Unconscious (Marylin & Clark)

**Warnings:** Unconsciousness, first aid  
**Spoilers:** For PL4  
**Set:** During the final battle in PL4  
**Song:** No One Mourns the Wicked from Wicked

* * *

** Unconscious (Marylin & Clark)**

"Quickly!" The inspector pointed up towards the dam. "Everybody, _this way!"_

Marylin's mum couldn't move _quickly..._ especially not up that steep hill.

They had to escape through Highyard Arch- it was closer and_ downhill_\- but Mum was petrified by the sight of the robots leaping onto the roofs.

"Come_ on,_ Mum!"

Marylin grabbed her right arm and Dad took the left. Together, they herded her down the hill.

The two robots in the plaza were busy attacking Arianna's pet- _Loosha._ Marylin felt sorry for Loosha, but at least she was providing a distraction for them to get away.

Crow and the rest of the ravens were probably helping Professor Layton right now. But Marylin's first priority was her family…

She and her parents were at the western edge of the plaza now. _Nearly there…_

The ground shook under their feet. Mum gasped. Marylin glanced over her shoulder.

All the little robots had joined together to form one big robot! It was looming over Loosha like a daddy longlegs.

"Come with me!" a man called.

Ahead of them, down Highyard Arch- Mayor Triton was waving.

Marylin's family staggered after him and he directed them between two houses- into an alleyway.

There wasn't enough room for three people to walk in a line, so Marylin went behind her parents.

"It should be safer here," Mr Triton breathed. He winced, however, when they heard crashing and Loosha's cries from the plaza. He poked his head out of the alley and muttered, "Poor thing... LUKE, GET AWAY FROM THERE!" He ran out of the alley._ "LUKE-"_

Another crash, closer this time, and his shouts were cut off.

Biting her lip, Marylin looked from the street to her parents.

"Mari?" Mum yelped. She and Dad were at the other end of the alley.

"Keep going- get somewhere safe!" Marylin told them. "I need to help…"

Dad hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mum. Marylin had survived screaming customers. She could handle this.

Dad nodded to her. "Be careful,_ Cariad!"_

"I will!"

Pressing her back against the wall, Marylin peeked out at Highyard Arch. "Mayor Triton," she gasped.

He was lying in the middle of the street, surrounded by pieces of rubble. Had he been hit...?

Marylin looked at the plaza.

Loosha was dodging the robot's attacks and- was that Luke riding on her head? (No wonder Mayor Triton had sounded so worried!) The robot was too concerned with Loosha to notice a simple fruit-selling girl.

Marylin dashed out and called, "Mayor Triton?" What was his first name again? The professor had said it earlier... "Clark?_ Clark Triton!_ Can you hear me?"

No response. Not good...

Marylin gulped. She had learned first aid in case she needed to help her mum, but she had never actually been in an emergency before...

_First time for everything, right?_

With a sigh, she knelt next to Mayor Triton.

He had landed on his back, so she should have easy access his airway. She put her hand on his forehead and gently titled his head back- but not too far. She lifted his chin with two fingers so he wouldn't choke on his own tongue. She was careful not to move his neck too much.

Next, she had to check his breathing. His chest wasn't rising as far as she could tell, but when she leaned in closer, she felt his breath against her cheek. That was better!

She sat back.

"We're_ ready!"_ Luke shouted somewhere from the plaza. What were they up to?

_Not now-_ she had to focus on saving Luke's dad.

This was the hard part- putting him into the recovery position.

The mayor's right arm was closest to her. She moved his arm so that it was at a right angle to his body with his hand upwards. As for his left hand... that had to go under the side of his head, with the back of his hand touching his cheek.

Then, she had to bend his knee up... but how could she do that while she was holding his hand in place? Why did he have to be so _tall?_

Marylin hummed. Maybe she could leave his left hand there, just for a moment...

She released his hand when there was more racket from the plaza.

Rocks and metal had clattered to the floor. Had the robot been defeated? Nope… It was reforming, and throwing the broken remains of the monument... hopefully not at her friends.

She returned her attention to Mayor Triton. She rested his left hand on the ground beside his chin, leaving his elbow jutting out while she went to bend his left knee into a right angle.

Puffing, she pulled on his knee and rolled him on to his side. She made sure his left arm was supporting his head.

She checked his airway again- he was still breathing.

Marylin stood up and stepped back to assess her work.

Seeing him like this, with his face slack and without his furrowed brow, he didn't look like the snobby mayor or the stern father she had heard so much gossip about. There was actually some resemblance between him and Luke...

Marylin sighed. All she could do now was wait for Mr Triton to wake up, or wait for help to arrive...

She was so relieved when, five minutes later, Wren and Socket came racing down Highyard Arch.

_"Marylin!"_

"Is everyone okay?" Marylin gasped.

"Yeah- whoa!" Socket skidded to a halt next to her. "Is that the _mayor?"_

"I think he got hit in the head…"

"We need to get him out of here," Wren said in a rush.

"The seal's tryin' to break down the floodgates!" Socket explained. "And Crow's helpin' her!"

They were going to wash the robot away like a spider down the drain.

_Crow, you mad genius,_ Marylin thought with grin.

She heard a low groan and turned to see Mr Triton was waking up.

"Luke...?" He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He opened his eyes and blinked at Marylin, Wren and Socket. "Have you... seen my son?"

Socket answered tactlessly, "He's with the professor facin' the giant robot!"

"W-_what?"_

"Um, we need to go _right now!"_ Wren intervened.

"Can you run?" Marylin checked. "You hit your head pretty hard…" She helped Mr Triton clamber to his feet.

"Thank you…" he sighed. He offered Marylin a weak smile. That smile sank when he turned his head up to the plaza. "Can anyone else hear... water-?"

"Run," Wren shouted, shoving him into the alley. _"Run!"_


	11. Stiches (Rook & Bishop)

**Warnings:** Flesh wounds  
**Spoilers:** For Azran Legacy, maybe  
**Song:** Stand By You by Rachel Platten (It was either that or Shawn Mendes' Stiches, leave me alone)

* * *

**Stiches (Rook & Bishop)**

"And what have we learned?" said Rook.

Bishop sighed, "Don't touch big birds' nests. _Don't touch_—_!"_ He yanked his arm away from Rook.

"If you leave it, it _will_ get infected," Rook warned. Who knew how many bugs were in this godforsaken forest?

"It's my _battle wound._ Maybe the boss will see it and he'll promote me for my bravery!"

"And then you'll get fired when you _lose an arm,"_ Rook growled. He held out his hand and flexed his fingers. "Let me see it."

Grudgingly, Bishop gave Rook his arm. There were four tears in Bishop's sleeve— talon marks. Rook rolled up his sleeve and grimaced at the deep red cuts in Bishop's skin. (That_ bloody bird_…)

"It's not_ that_ bad," Bishop said.

Rook grabbed his canister of water and gently poured it over the wound. (It wasn't phoenix tears, but the water was clean enough.)

Bishop winced. "There, it's done—"

"Nope." Rook tightened his grasp on Bishop's arm. "You need stitches."

_"What?"_

"You can't go around with an open wound, and I doubt the local doctor will see us…" They had only scared that one kid— along with the eagle— but word spread fast.

Hoping to hide the guilt on his face, Rook turned away from Bishop to search through his pack.

Bishop huffed, "So how do I get_ stitches—?"_ He paused when Rook pulled out a small needle and thread. "How long have you had those?"

"Since I cut my leg on some shrapnel in Ambrosia." Rook shrugged. "The boss won't give us decent supplies, so I decided to stock up."

"You're so prepared!" Bishop beamed. "Always looking out for your teammates. If anyone should be promoted here, it's _you."_

Rook ducked his head as he inserted the thread through the eye of the needle.

Bishop chuckled, "I didn't know you could_ sew,_ Rook!"

"I'll sew your _mouth_ shut if you make me mess this up. Now, hold still…"


	12. Don't move! (Melina & Janice)

**Warnings:** Inner monologue, sickness, heights  
**Spoilers:** For Eternal Diva  
**Set:** During Eternal Diva  
**Song:** Clarity by Zedd

* * *

**"Don't move!" (Melina & Janice)**

_He's going to hit them! I have to do something!_

_Don't move!_ Janice exclaimed, stunning Melina. _The professor can handle this._

Beneath her reassurance, there was a layer of dread. Melina saw flashes of memories, despite Janice's efforts to suppress them; Professor Layton welcoming everyone on their first day of class, the professor praising Janice on a successful find at a dig-site, the professor comforting Janice when she decided to quit the archaeology course...

All for Melina.

Melina looked back at Descole.

_Melina, no_—_!_

She shut Janice out. Then she threw herself at Descole.

"Stop it!" she cried.

"Out of my way!" He flung her aside like she was nothing— like he hadn't spent all that time trying to preserve her life.

A yelp was torn from her as she tumbled off the machine. It was metal— nothing to grip on to— until she felt the wire under her back. She grabbed hold of it but her body was already over the edge.

She hung on for dear life— for Janice's life.

_Janice!_ she gasped._ I'm sorry—_

Her left hand slipped. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would save her from the sheer drop.

_I thought... I could do something good for once. But you just ending up getting hurt._ Tears seeped from Melina's eyes. _If you die—_

_If I die,_ Janice whispered, _then at least I'll be with you_. Janice showed her a faint memory— she was wiping Melina's tears away with her thumb.

With this, it was as if a wall had ascended inside her mind. Melina was flooded with images of herself.

Her younger, healthier self— meeting Janice, the two of them rehearsing, playing the piano together, taking the dog out, staying up too late at sleepovers…

Her crying with Janice when she got back from the hospital...

Her growing paler, thinner, but Janice still believing she was beautiful nonetheless... Her saying goodbye before they left for the island... Her waving from the balcony when Janice finally came to visit...

Walking along the beach arm in arm... Watching the sunset on Melina's last day... Janice wishing she was brave enough to tell Melina...

But it was too late— Melina was giving Janice her pendant, holding her hand, her grip getting weaker-

Melina's grip tightened on the wire above her. _You are **not** dying here, Janice Quatlane._

She felt Janice's love and pride flow through her._ I think the professor and Luke agree with you…_

Melina heard a propeller. She gasped and turned her head. Yes, there they were, hovering in front of Descole's robot.

_They wouldn't be here without you,_ Janice reminded her.

The robot's claw took a swipe at the helicopter. A tiny figure—_ Luke!_— leapt out. Melina watched, open-mouthed, as he fell past her and landed on a platform below.

_Great,_ Janice remarked. _Now who's going to save **him? **_

Melina said patiently, _Give him a chance—_

The 'platform' Luke had landed on started spinning.

_Why didn't the professor bring his assistant?_ Janice wondered. _She fought off those henchmen and all those wolves! She's super strong, and pretty… Um, sorry._

_No, you're right,_ Melina agreed. The pair of them sighed.


	13. Adrenaline (Bloom)

**Warnings:** Fugitive situation, Bloom being offensive  
**Spoilers:** For Azran Legacy  
**Set**: Just after Azran Legacy  
**Song:** Runnin' by Adam Lambert

* * *

**Adrenaline (Bloom)**

_"After him!"_

Needless to say, Leonard Bloom was not renowned for his athletic prowess. He had only run a mile and he was already panting.

During his training days, he had been physically outmatched by everyone, including Bronev's niece, who was six years his junior.

Where was_ she_ now? Was she sitting in a cell next to Bronev, or was she a fugitive like Bloom?

All those years of studying, licking boots, and lying to just about everyone he came into contact with... What had it amounted to?

Targent had eventually recognised Bloom's talents and granted him a post at Scotland Yard. He had aced all of his exams (except the fitness test— those results had been forged) and worked his way up through the Force.

Countless cases had been solved thanks to him. The citizens of London could sleep soundly knowing he was on the job.

Meanwhile, he had been aiding Targent in their goals— facilitating thefts, diverting police attention and misplacing the odd missing person report.

Until now, Bloom had never felt a shred of sympathy for the archaeologists taken in by Targent. Most of them would leap at the chance to join the agency, but if they dared to leave, they would be hunted down.

The Nest was a lethal labyrinth compared to the back alleys of London.

Bloom had worked in this city for over a decade and yet he couldn't think of a single safe space to hide.

His apartment had probably been reduced to dust by this point. His former office was off limits. The police would pounce on him if he came within a hundred steps of their headquarters. They would throw him behind bars and most likely give him a life sentence. Still, at least his life would be spared...

Regrettably, it wasn't his old colleagues from the Yard coming after him. Then he might have had some chance of escaping due to their sense of mercy and general incompetency.

He hadn't wasted time trying to identify his pursuers, but based on their black sunglasses (worn on a dark evening), he had guessed they were Targent. The dregs of a dying organisation.

Hands snagged the ends his jacket as he dashed around a corner. He slipped out of the jacket- a gift from his dilettante brother- and ran right into a dead end.

Bloom placed his palm against a wall— far too high for him to climb.

"Nowhere left to go," a woman said behind him.

Turning, Bloom got a good look at his soon-to-be assailants. He had been expecting hitmen like the ones that had been sent after Inspector Grosky. (Or was it _superintendent_ now, since Grosky had helped defeat Targent?)

Bloom had in fact been cornered by two women— one was blonde and the other was bound to a wheelchair.

He had been caught by someone who didn't even appear to have _legs._

"Well," Bloom snorted, "Targent must be desperate—"

"We're not _with_ Targent," snapped the blonde woman.

"But we used to be," her friend in the wheelchair said, "just like you…"

_"Targent 2.O,_ is it?" Bloom sneered. Swift was surely next in line to become their leader-

A figure dropped down from the wall above, landing right beside Bloom. Bloom's heart leapt in his throat. He backed into a corner.

"Intelligent services, actually," the newcomer corrected him. He was smaller than Bloom and he was smiling.

Trying to reclaim some scrap of dignity, Bloom demanded, "What do you want then?"

"To make you a deal."


	14. Tear-stained (Hannah & Bloom)

**Warnings:** Unwanted sexual attention and discussions of such. Questioning asexual character headcanons.  
**Spoilers:** For Azran Legacy  
**Set:** After the Bloom and Hannah bonus episode during AL  
**Song:** Sinners by Lauren Aquilina

* * *

**Tear-stained (Hannah & Bloom)**

"C-can I stay here tonight?"

Bloom didn't recall giving Hannah his new address, but there she was, shivering on his doorstep. Her cheeks were stained with tears and mascara.

"What happened?" Bloom drawled. He peered at her through the crack in the door. She was wearing a strappy dark blue dress— and she was bare foot. "Where are your_ shoes?"_ Without her high heels and her ridiculously-sized hat, Hannah was considerably shorter... and more vulnerable.

"Please," Hannah begged. Her breath hitched. "I can't go home... "

Bloom shut the door on her. He heard her let out a strangled noise of despair. When he removed the chain and opened up again, she gasped, "Th-thank you!"

As she rushed in, he caught a whiff of wine, perfume, and expensive cologne.

"Were you followed?" Bloom said in a low voice.

Hannah shook her head. Her loose curls rippled like a red flag.

Bloom did a check outside before he double-locked the door.

He turned back to Hannah. Her arms were folded and she was gazing at the floor. If she were her usual irritating self, she would probably comment on his tatty carpet. But this empty silence... it didn't suit her at all.

"Are you hurt?" Bloom asked.

"No..." She sounded uncertain. "I was just... just scared."

Bloom had to restrain himself from questioning her further. Now wasn't the time. Not when Hannah looked like she might fall apart at any moment.

He told her to help herself to a glass of water and anything from the fridge. (Not that there was much choice there.) He pointed her towards the bathroom; she could borrow soap, toothpaste, shampoo- whatever she needed, except his hair gel.

While she was cleaning herself up, he tossed some pillows and a spare blanket onto the settee. Then he knocked on the bathroom door and informed her he was going to bed. If there was any trouble, she could call him.

She didn't reply. Bloom shrugged and went to his bedroom.

Hannah was so quiet that he almost forgot she was there. He found her the next morning with her head resting on the kitchen table. He cleared his throat and she sat up. Bloom stared.

"I don't look_ that_ bad, do I?" Hannah snorted. It was a bitter snort, but at least some of her haughtiness had returned.

"No worse than usual," Bloom replied. "I've just never seen you without makeup before..."

It seemed as if she had scrubbed her face raw. Her eyes looked heavy, but her lashes were invisible without mascara. Her usually rosy-red lips were dry and set in a thin frown. And was that...?

"Oh my word—" Bloom covered his mouth in mock-horror. "Is that a _zit?"_

"Ha, ha," Hannah said dryly. "I couldn't care less."

Bloom took the seat opposite her and steepled his fingers. "You seemed to care a lot last night," he prompted.

Hannah sealed her lips and averted her gaze.

"Coffee?" Bloom offered. If there was anything Bloom had learned in their short partnership, it was that Hannah liked chatting over coffee, and she liked her coffee with plenty of cream.

He needed to approach her as a concerned friend, rather than a interrogator questioning a suspect.

Hannah sipped her coffee.

"I barely knew him," she began. She stirred her drink. "It was our second date, and he took me out to dinner. He paid for the meal and he even bought me flowers..."

"So, what went wrong?"

"We went back to my house and we watched a movie. It was nice..." She took a longer sip, as if the coffee was giving her strength. She wiped her mouth and mumbled, "But he wanted to take things further."

Bloom tried to keep a straight face, but his eyes narrowed. "He didn't—"

"No," Hannah said, with certainty this time. "I said no and he got angry. He fell asleep soon after, and that's when I came here." (For his sake, he better not still be at her house.)

"Are you going to see him again?"

"I won't— not after this."

Bloom leaned back in his seat. "It sounded like you were enjoying yourself before... things got intimate." Bloom hummed. "Romance, flowers, bulging biceps... I thought you loved that sort of thing?"

"Romance, yes," Hannah sighed. "It's what comes after that I'm not a huge fan of. Or at least... It depends on who I'm with."

"What if Grosky declared his undying love to you on the spot? Would you go for it then?"

Hannah huffed, "He doesn't even know my name... When I last ran into him, he's the one who made me realise... that's how I feel. I am grateful to him for opening my eyes." She stood up. "I will continue to support Clamp Grosky, nevertheless!"

"Best of luck with that," Bloom quipped.

Hannah glared at him. The fire was back in her eyes. "I wouldn't expect_ you_ to understand!"

"No, you wouldn't." He did, however, understand having nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

For the first time in his life, he felt he had reached a level of stability. He wasn't exactly on the straight and narrow- he never would be- but that line he had once walked between working for the law and against it had vanished.

Now that his days as a double agent were over, one might think Bloom would pursue an intimate relationship of his own...

"I'll accompany you back to your house," Bloom decided, standing up.

Hannah adjusted the strap of her dress. "I really do look like a wreck," she confessed. "Bloom, you don't suppose—?"

"No, you are not borrowing any of my clothes, ever."

...Or not.


	15. Scars (Randall & Henry)

**Warnings:** Scars, and Randall/Henry shipping. Not that that in itself requires a warning, but people like to know what they're getting in to.  
**Spoilers:** For Miracle Mask  
**Set:** Between the scenes shown in the credits of Miracle Mask  
**Song:** Something Wild by Lindsey Stirling

* * *

**Scars (Randall & Henry)**

After Randall's hair had been cut, Henry insisted on getting him some new clothes. Fortunately, Henry had a wardrobe— an entire room— prepared for his return.

The room was on the mansion's first floor, offering a magnificent view of Monte d'Or.

It appeared newly furnished, or maybe everything within had just been kept in mint condition. The curtains effused a floral scent as they fluttered in the breeze. The king-sized bed was freshly made. The green carpet was plush and spotless— so much that Randall felt the need to remove his shoes as he followed Henry in.

Randall recognised some keepsakes from his teenage bedroom back in Stansbury: Photos, books and treasures he had collected.

Everything in this room… in this house… in this _city_ apparently belonged to Randall. And he had almost destroyed it all…

From now on, he wouldn't rest until he had to made it up to Henry— and Angela. He could start by burning the Masked Gentleman's costume.

Henry wasn't keen on that idea (Monte d'Or had suffered enough without adding_ wildfire_ to the list) but he promised they could dispose of the costume as soon as Randall had changed.

Of course, Henry meant change_ clothes_, but Randall was determined to find an outfit that would reflect a change in himself. Something that harkened back to the energy of his youth, while also showing how he had matured.

Thankfully, he was spoiled for choice with the clothes Henry had assembled. The wardrobe was so spacious that he would probably stumble into Narnia. (He _wished…_)

There was casual dress like jeans and jumpers, outdoor wear should he fancy taking an adventure, and formal attire for fancier events.

Randall poked his tongue out at a white tuxedo— definitely a_ no._

He hummed when he pulled out a plain white shirt with a collar— something that would suit Henry. Would Henry mind if Randall dressed like him?

As a child, Henry had been given hand-me-downs from Randall. But they weren't children anymore. The last thing Randall wanted to do was steal Henry's style. He had already stolen his city…

Randall swallowed and continued rummaging through the wardrobe.

His gaze settled on purple wool— a sweater vest. It was a similar shade to the jacket Randall had favoured as a teen.

Randall held the sweater vest against the white shirt. He might look like a total prep, but at least he wouldn't be copying Henry completely.

On to the bottom half…

Though his legs were still in good shape, he couldn't get away with wearing skinny jeans or shorts if he was going to help run the city. He had to look like a_ refined gentleman._

Hershel had his dark trousers, his high-collared coat and his top hat, to boot.

There were some ties, ascots and other accessories on hooks in the wardrobe, but Randall vehemently turned away from them.

He hadn't gone by the name 'Ascot' for eighteen years, until Descole came along. Even then, Descole had always addressed him as 'Ascot', never 'Randall'…

Randall squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he saw a pair of pale green trousers. It was another colour that would suit Henry better, but it made Randall feel… peaceful— and nostalgic.

He remembered racing across the fields in Stansbury, hiding in the reeds down by the river, roaming through the forest with his friends… He thought of Tannenbaum's straw hat, willow trees, gathering wheat in the summer… It felt like_ home._

Smiling, he placed the green trousers on the bed below the white shirt and the purple sweater vest. He threw off his Masked Gentleman ensemble with relish.

He'd only just put on the trousers when there was a knock at the door.

"Master Randall…?"

"You can come in, Henry!"

"Did you find some—" Henry froze as he opened the door. "Ah, f-forgive me! I thought you were ready!"

Randall laughed at his reddening face. "Relax! I'm half-decent!" He gestured to the green trousers below his bare torso.

"V-very nice…" Henry still wouldn't look at Randall directly.

"I think you've known me long enough to see me without a shirt," Randall said, puffing out his chest. "How many times did you walk in on me when we were younger?"

Henry mumbled, "That was years ago…"

Eighteen long years ago for Henry. Randall had only gotten his memory back recently.

"Right, sorry…" Randall sighed, deflating. He grabbed the white shirt and turned so he had his back to Henry.

"Your _back!"_ Henry exclaimed in alarm.

Randall yanked on one side of the shirt, huffing, "_Alright,_ I won't be a second—"

"No, Master Randall…!" Henry edged across the room. He raised his hands to point. "I mean the… the_ scars o_n your back!"

A map of scars covered Randall's skin, stark white against his tan.

"Oh, yeah…" Randall shrugged. "Those are from falling into the river. Rocks are sharp." He said it as casually as if he was describing a tattoo. Such a tattoo artist would have taken a needle and torn it across his back.

"Does it… still hurt?" asked Henry.

"Not anymore. The wounds did, when I first woke up in Craggy Dale. The villagers had me bandaged up like a mummy…"

His shot at humour only horrified Henry even more. "You could have died," Henry breathed.

"Didn't I tell you— I made a full recovery! Some of these scars are just from working on the farm…" Tannebaum had started him off with menial tasks and only let him do the heavier lifting months after he was fit.

Henry's hands hovered over Randall's back. "May I…?"

"Go ahead."

Henry brushed his fingers along a particularly large scar between Randall's left shoulder blade. His touch was surprisingly soft.

Randall shuddered and Henry drew his hand away.

"Sorry!" Henry gasped.

"Honestly," Randall reassured him, "it doesn't hurt at all."

"Still, there must be something we can do about those scars. You could go to the hospital-"

"I'm sure they're too busy to see _me_ right now," Randall grumbled. He'd heard the emergency services were overwhelmed due to his giant sand wave.

"Okay… What about this balm Angela bought from the pharmacy?"

Randall wondered, "Have _you_ ever used it?" (That would explain why Henry's hands were so soft.)

"Once or twice…" Henry admitted. "It really works miracles."

"If you say so, I guess I'll give it a go." Randall pulled on the other side of the shirt and started doing up the buttons. "But they're never going to fade completely, and I'm fine with that. It's what I deserve—"

"No, it's_ not,"_ Henry said sharply. He grabbed the collar of Randall's shirt, holding on for a moment. "You were seventeen, for goodness' sake— you didn't deserve any of that."

"Henry…"

Henry suddenly realised how close their heads were. He fixed the shirt collar, stepped back and cleared his throat. "Now, um… if you're quite finished showing off your scars, we have afternoon tea scheduled at the Reunion Inn in fifteen minutes."

"Will you be_ serving_ the tea?" Randall smirked. "Or ordering everyone else around?"

_"Fifteen minutes, Master Randall!"_ Henry scurried out of the room.

"You forgot the costume," Randall called, kicking the Masked Gentleman's suit.

"You can throw it in with the rest of the washing!"


End file.
